The perfect match?
by Aletta-Feather
Summary: A new Triwizard Tournament will be hosted by Durmstrang. Since McGonagall is getting a little older, Hermione has to visit the school to make the first preparations in her stead.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Hermione was staring at the screen, in complete shock. Draco Malfoy, as depicted on his profile, was grinning at her. There must have been something wrong with the algorithm, Hermione figured, how else could he be her perfect match?!

"Hermione, stop using that pomputer! We're late as it is already!" Ron called from below. They were at the Burrow where Arthur recently had had a computer installed for his own use. His children and his wife couldn't see the benefits but Hermione had promised to help him out a bit. "Coming, coming!" she yelled back, quickly erasing the history: this information was fit for no-one's eyes.

She had been a little restless, these last few months. Ron was out a lot, performing his work as an Auror and Hermione was often by herself. They hadn't been able to have children which had eventually led to Ron taking on even more cases, since he had the time, and to Hermione accepting a position at Hogwarts. Ron would stay with her if he was around the area, other times he stayed at their small flat. It was a good marriage mostly, but, lately they had gotten into a sort of rut. Hermione had created a dating profile, not to cheat, but just to look around, to daydream as it were. The website had promised her the perfect match and out of sheer curiosity she had filled in some information about herself, careful not to be too specific, and…. a match had appeared.

* * *

Draco Malfoy was staring out of the open window, smoking a good cigar. The wind was rushing the snow over the castle's grounds. The ice in the fjord attacked by the ne'er resting waves. Being a teacher was far more rewarding than he'd ever imagined as a student. Life was good. After some bumps in the road, he'd finally found his vocation. Here, his name would not be used against them. In fact, it was highly respected as was his family's history…

After a short career as a healer, or rather an apothecary, he had become a Potion's teacher. As an apothecary, he made many healing potions, but no-one entrusted the task to him. St. Mungo's eventually fired him as too many customers believed he would poison them and demanded a different healer to prepare their medicine. Draco's attempts at being accepted in the Wizarding world after the War fell flat. He became disheartened, but then an Owl arrived that changed his life forever. He was offered a position as a teacher, at Durmstrang! His parents, at the time still under house-arrest, advised him to go for it. The climate in Britain wasn't going to change any time soon and at this magical school he might have an actual chance at building his career.

That was five years ago. Draco had needed a bit of time to get used to the different climate, the long and dark winters were even worse than those is Scotland, but it had become a home away from home. Who knew? In time he might run Malfoy Manor, but for now, he was having a blast in the North. Notorious as the school may have been in the past, Durmstrang really wasn't all that different compared to Hogwarts. Muggle-borns were not allowed, but half-bloods were and so second generations were more than welcome. Draco had found out that it had more to do with a lack of basic magical knowledge than the pure-blood ideals the school had been accused of. As Durmstrang was a smaller school, with fewer teachers and resources, Muggle-borns would take too much time to train. Unlike Hogwarts, students only attended for four years and a basic, working knowledge of magic was assumed and required. This suited Draco fine. More than fine, as he could pick good and excellent students.

He had just heard great news of his Headmistress. Durmstrang had been elected to host the Triwizard Tournament and he would play a central role. Draco was more than content. This would be an great opportunity to showcase the school and its many talented students. Perhaps more British students would attend afterwards?

* * *

Minerva McGonagall was getting on. Seriously getting on, but she kept on going as best as she could. The idea of travelling far North to attend the Tournament was not that appealing, but she would do her duty, as she always had. Draco Malfoy, of all people, would be their liaison officer and their first meeting would be soon, very soon. She needed someone cool-headed, with not too many war-sentiments to assist her in this task. Leafing through her teacher files, her eyes lingered on Hermione. Would she be a good choice? She was hardly dispassionate, although generally pragmatic. Minerva closed her eyes. Would it be a disastrous choice or a great idea? She found it harder to know these things lately.

She addressed the portraits of Dumbledore and Snape. "What do the both of you think? She deserves an outing, at the very least, with everything she and Ron have been going through, these last few years…"

"I can't see Draco caring much for that," Snape sneered, "Granger and him hardly got on."

"Two excellent students having become teachers," Dumbledore smiled serenely. "More than we could have hoped for, especially the Malfoy boy."

"Severus," Minerva began cautiously, "I've often wondered if… If Draco's disapproval of her might not have been too firm? Almost like an act…. Though they were fierce competitors." She sighed.

"Competition is what the Triwizard Tournament is about," Dumbledore said, "In that light, it might be a sound decision."

"What are you implying, Minerva?" Severus smirked. "Are you a secret romantic at heart?"

"Not me, Severus," she firmly retorted, "But who is to say Malfoy isn't?"

"You're getting soft in your, ahem, autumn years," he sneered, "I'd never thought I'd see the day."

"Your final thoughts, Headmasters?" she spoke sternly. "An experiment to try out or to discard?"

"Shed it like snakeskin," Snape replied, as Dumbledore insisted: "Perfect pairing."

"I knew this would happen," Minerva mumbled. "I feared it. Problem is, I can see both your points…" She wearily closed her eyes.

Advice provided by former Headmasters was just as unclear as astrology, she'd found out over the years. Just as accurate and just as ambiguous, which was to say, utterly unreliable and incoherent.

"One wonders why one bothers," Phineas Nigellus said, smirking, clearly having overheard the entire conversation, voicing her very doubts.

"My thoughts exactly," both Minerva and Severus agreed simultaneously.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for the favorites, follows and reviews!

* * *

Chapter 2

As she had been unsure of taking Hermione, Minerva decided to do the first visit solitarily. She would have some time to decide who would be the best assistant. Perhaps her meeting with Malfoy would give her some clues as to what kind of person would be best suited? The other Headmaster and Headmistress would not be attending as this was only a preliminary meeting.

A little nervous, just a touch, she entered the establishment upon which they had decided. As a gesture of hospitality of the hosting school, it was on home-ground for her, high up in Scotland. Draco had been able to take a private ship to get to the small fishing town, whereas she had flown herself. Minerva had trouble apparating lately, which was highly embarrassing, but had one upside. She had discovered her long lost love of flying. The wind in her face would scatter her troubles, at least for a moment.

"Headmistress," he had addressed her with a nod and offered her a seat. It seemed that Draco had grown up.

"Mr. Malfoy," she said. "A nice spot you have chosen," Minerva added to break the ice. The pub was small and dark but very cosy. She felt right at home.

Draco smiled. "They serve the best drinks here," he said, "hearty food as well."

"The most obscure pubs are often the best," she agreed whole-heartedly. "Quieter, which best suits our purpose." As long as it wasn't sure if the Tournament would take place, it should be kept under wraps.

After their drinks had appeared, Draco said: "Another Triwizard Tournament. Is Hogwarts looking forward to it?"

She swallowed hard. "It's a bit bitter-sweet," she replied. "The last one hasn't been forgotten. The horrible way it all ended." Minerva sighed deeply. "I understand it's a great honour for Durmstrang, of course."

"It is," Draco said. "Igor Karkaroff… Well, he had made a mess of some things, regarding the school. It has taken Durmstrang a long time to recover from his rule."

"Still, many of his preferences remain, or so I've heard," Minerva stated. "Will Muggle-borns be allowed to compete, for instance?"

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Of course, just because Durmstrang doesn't train them, doesn't mean they are not welcome."

"I take it the same applies to teachers with a similar background?" she inquired.

He gritted his teeth. "Of course, it does. In fact, some of our own teachers are Muggle-borns. It's more of a matter of, well, means."

"If you say so," she conceded. Minerva thought the better of it but now was not the time to argue. "In any case, a Triwizard Tournament that doesn't end in disaster would do us a world of good."

"Let's make preparations to make it happen then," Draco replied. He raised his glass in a toast.

* * *

"And?" Snape was the first to speak, the moment she entered her office.

"Looks like it went well," Dumbledore guessed, looking at Minerva.

"Better than expected," she told them. "He was polite enough, almost friendly. Very defensive of his new school though."

Snape shrugged. "I'm sure he's had a good reception at Durmstrang, possible a far better one than he's gotten used to."

"Which won't help his arrogance one bit," McGonagall muttered, "but I've got guarantees that Muggle-borns will be allowed, teachers as well. Since that was our aim…" Her voice drifted away.

"It will help all the schools to, once more, build friendships and cooperation. The War has ruined a lot and we must build again," Dumbledore stated. "For the students of Durmstrang it will, presumably, be a wonderful experience and for Hogwarts and Beauxbattons it will be a way to shine again." His own eyes shone at the prospect as well.

* * *

"Hermione? Could I have a word with you after class?" McGonagall tapped her on the shoulder, just before she entered the classroom. "It's a matter of some urgency, but nothing to worry about."

"Yes, yes, of course," Hermione replied, with a puzzled look. "I'll see you in an hour then."

"Splendid. Do bring your schedule."

Hermione walked a little anxious to the headmistress' office. She had said not to worry, so it couldn't be about her job performance, could it? However, it was urgent and she had seemed a bit cranky. Soon she would find out.

"Take a seat, please, Hermione, I'll be with you in a second." Minerva tidied a few last feathers and leaves away, neatly organized in a wooden box. "Transfiguration class didn't go too well today," she remarked. "One of the first-years managed to get the feathers pasted unto his face, to hilarity and dismay all around."

Hermione shivered. "I only too well remember the furry effects of the Polyjuice Potion," she said, with a sad smile.

"Indeed. Magic is not to be trifled with," Minerva replied, a small smile on her face. "But to business. I've asked you here, Hermione, because, in accordance with the previous two headmasters, I've been looking into the possibility of helping organize another Triwizard Tournament."

Hermione gasped. "Here at Hogwarts?" she asked.

"Durmstrang," Mcgonall said. "Their turn. As with the last Tournament, it would help build magical relations between the schools, creating a basis for international cooperation for the new generation."

"Durmstrang…." Hermione frowned. "But don't they…? What about Muggle-borns?"

"I thought you'd ask. We had the same fears. My liaison assures me we've nothing to worry about on that front."

The skeptical look on Hermione's face reflected Minerva's own misgivings. "I'm not yet entirely convinced myself," she said. "Still, I do believe we should give them the chance and we will therefore continue talks. I'd like you to help me with everything that needs to be arranged. Quite frankly, Hermione," she looked a bit pensive now, "It pains me to say it but I don't think I'll be up for the journey at the moment….which is why I would like you to go visit."

Hermione swallowed. "Going to Durmstrang? On my own?"

"I don't think Ron will be able to join you, not with this latest string of robberies… Nor can I spare any other teachers at the moment, not for simple preliminary talks. At a further stage, I'll form a heavier delegation."

"I see," she said, "Who will I be talking to?"

Minerva coughed. "Yes, that's another… ahum. Point of interest."

Snape and Phineas Nigellus snorted softly. Hermione looked at them suspiciously.

"I'm not going to like the answer, am I?" she wondered.

"It's Mr. Malfoy. Draco. He's a Potion's as well as Defence against the Dark Arts teacher up there."

"Malfoy?!"

Snape beamed with pride behind Minerva's back. One of his best students a Potions master himself. Hermione couldn't stand to see his gloating smile.

"Potions? And Defence against..? Are you sure it's not simply the teaching of those arts?" she spat.

"As you are a Potions Mistress yourself, you will have at least that in common. Both of you are devoted teachers as far as I can tell and definitely cut out for this task."

"You spoke to him already? What does he say about cooperating with me?"

"I haven't told him yet since I wanted to speak to you first," she said.

"You've met him?" Hermione stared in disbelief at her Headmistress.

"Last weekend, yes, he came over for it especially."

"And you trust him?" Hermione longed to know. She'd always put stuck in McGonagall's opinion, but about this she wasn't too sure. Perhaps she was getting somewhat….elderly. Batty, Ron would have said.

"Trust is a big word." Minerva sighed. "I believe he, they, are in earnest about the Triwizard Championship, and that he is polite at least. They want to change their school's reputation, I believe,"

"Fat chance of that," Hermione mumbled.

"You sound like you are still attending this school, rather than teaching at it. " Minerva sternly admonished her. "Think about it. If you accept, you'll be spending a weekend there quite soon. If you don't, I'll have to find someone else more willing to improve international relationship."

Hermione blushed. "I'll need some time to ponder on it," she said, "Just so you know… You're asking quite a lot."

"I do realize that," Minerva responded, "I do, Hermione. I do, however, also believe you might be the best teacher we have for this particular job. Sending a Muggle-born will send a clear message on Hogwart's position in this."

Hermione nodded. She had to agree with that sentiment albeit reluctantly.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, favorits and follows.

I won't use accents for the Wizarding Schools at the moment. I might choose one character to do so for each school, but I haven't decided on that yet. English is not my native language so it might be too difficult to add accents to that.

* * *

Chapter 3

Minerva talked with Draco through the Floo network. "I've found a teacher to travel in my stead. Our potions mistress. You will conduct further preliminary talks with her." She made it sound like it was her work-load rather than her health that kept her from travelling herself.

"Very well," Draco replied. "Do I know her?"

"Yes, she's from your year," Minerva smiled. "Surely you remember Mrs. Weasley. Or Granger as she was called back then."

Draco turned pink. "Granger?" he sneered. "Couldn't you think of someone better?"

"No, I could not, Mr. Malfoy," Minerva replied. "Are you sure you don't mean purer?"

His blush deepened. "No, I don't. I hadn't realized she'd become a teacher."

"You might be able to learn from each other," the Headmistress said. "I'm sure you both specialize in different fields in you free time."

"No doubt," he replied. His sour mouth reminded Minerva of his mother's.

When their conversation had ended, Draco complained to his Headmistress as they were doing the rounds. It was the teachers' duty to check the gates, doors and windows every evening for any calamities. The nightly walk often helped Draco to sleep better but even that wouldn't help him tonight.

"Hogwarts is outdoing itself once again," he sneered. "Holier than thou…" The attitude he'd learnt to hate over the years.

"They do seem to need to be seen as such," she agreed. "Always so sanctimonious." Her voice was cool and raspy. She grinned: "It must be rather tiring to be so self-righteous." Draco couldn't agree more.

"I hope to Merlin that the Beauxbattons don't prove to be such a handful," he sighed.

"On the contrary, the Headmaster and I are old friends," his dark-haired Headmistress smiled. "It should be my pleasure to conduct those talks myself." Her dark eyes glimmered, revealing a rare softness.

"Did I tell you about the time he and I went rowing together on a warm summer's eve only to end up in a blizzard?"

* * *

"It will be so cold there!" Hermione shivered, whilst packing her suitcases with thick sweaters and gloves, as Ron muttered: "Don't go then. I don't like it one bit." He stood behind her, hovering.

"It will be a challenge, that's for sure, but quite interesting as well." Hermione had come 'round to the idea of visiting the school at least. Meeting Malfoy was an entirely other matter. "I'll be able to compare it with Hogwarts, perhaps learn some new teaching methods." Ron rolled his eyes. _Teaching methods!_

"You better be careful!" He warned her. "Don't let them get to you, especially not him!"

"I'll be fine," she soothed. "It will be an educational outing and they're said to have a fantastic view on a fjord…"

Ron wasn't convinced. To think Hermione would visit those prejudiced pure-blood Wizards all the way up North was bad enough, but having Malfoy as a part of it too!

"If only I wasn't tied to this robbery case…" he sighed. "I'd have told him a thing or two!"

Hermione let him rant for a bit. She was a little anxious but also quite sure Ron's presence wouldn't do much good.

* * *

"Looks like she didn't bring the Weasel," Draco muttered to himself as he waited for the boat to moor. "All the better."

"The Weasel?" the Headmistress, asked. "Who's that?"

"Never mind," Draco muttered. "Here she comes."

"On your best behavior then, Malfoy," his Headmistress urged. "First impressions and all that."

Draco knew it wouldn't matter much. It was far too late for _that_.

* * *

Hermione looked at the two teachers awaiting her arrival. Draco hadn't changed one bit. He still had expensive taste by the looks of his fur coat and hat; and his expression was just as steely as ever. The woman standing next to him, Freya Frova, didn't look like her name suggested. Unlike a beautiful blond fertility goddess, she had a stern demeanor, raven-black hair and a bit of a stocky build. Hermione would later learn that she had, despite her raspy voice, a very musical laugh. Like Christmas bells.

"I'm the Headmistress of Durmstrang," she greeted her. "You are very welcome. I believe you've already met our Potions master, and soon to be right hand man, Draco Malfoy?"

"Indeed," Hermione said, shaking both their hands. "We were at school together."

"Ah, yes, Hogwarts. Dumbledore's school." She exclaimed. "Igor didn't have the best of recollections when it came to his visit, but that was to be expected." She had been a young teacher at Durmstrang herself, during those trying years. Igor's frequent reports from the Tournament had not been positive about Dumbledore's approach and views.

"It was a difficult time," Hermione said, a little uneasy. Would this woman be a friend or foe?

"Draco tells me your Headmistress had some reservations about, well, Durmstrang's past," she immediately grasped the nettle. "Let me assure you there's no need for worries on that matter."

Hermione let out a small inaudible sigh.

"Seeing Muggle-borns compete may just be the push some of our students need to challenge themselves even further…" she continued, "in other for them to excel."

Draco grinned as Hermione was unsure what the Headmistress exactly meant by that.

"They wouldn't want to be defeated by them?" she huffed. Draco smirked. She was so predictable.

"Of course not. That would hurt their pride, now wouldn't it?" Freya said. "We're pretty proud up here, aren't we, Draco?" She winked at Hermione when he stiffly nodded. "It's why he fits right in."

Draco knows all about losing from Muggle-borns, Hermoine thought, but bit her tongue. No need to draw the battle lines just yet.

"I can see that," she said instead, "and it's good to be competitive."

"Ah, we agree. Very well. You must be cold, so let's warm you up with some of our specialties. Our house-elves are the best cooks in the entire country."

Though a boastful Headmistress, Freya was a good hostess as well. The three of them had dinner at in her private chambers. Hermione would get a tour of the castle and meet the other teachers in the morning. She felt welcome despite the occasional off-hand remarks about the ignorance or stupidity of Muggles. Wizards tended to feel superior everywhere, she knew, not just in prejudiced places such as this. Her sole task was to ensure the Muggle-borns rights to compete and be respected. She wouldn't be able to change an entire culture single-handedly.

A house-elf entered the room when they were enjoying dessert and whispered in the Headmistress' ear. "I'm dreadfully sorry," she said, "but I'm afraid there's something urgent I need to attend to. I'll leave you in the capable hands of Draco. You'll show her to her rooms?" she asked.

"I will," Draco said.

Hermione swallowed hard. She had hoped to postpone this awkward moment of being alone with him.

"So Potions?" he began, after the door fell shut behind her. "Somehow I cannot picture it."

"Why-ever not? You're a teacher yourself."

"I'm sure you couldn't have pictured that either," he smirked.

She smiled uneasily. "Touché," she replied. "It is rather strange seeing you like this."

"I couldn't stay," he said simply. "After the War. I tried but… Well, the climate wasn't too great." His eyes darkened and his jaw was set as if not to speak his mind too much.

"I understand. Hogwarts has tried hard to begin anew, but outside of the school…"

Draco snorted out loud. "Forcing Slytherin to take in Muggle-borns is hardly subtle, nor was it the advisable thing to do."

"It was. It was so necessary and long overdue!" She paused to take a breath. "After all," she continued, a little friendlier, "it is not as if Muggle-borns can't be conniving or sly, or…"

"Selfish," he added, "shrewd."

She ignored his remarks. "Or resourceful and ambitious."

"Sounds like you wanted to be one yourself," he teased. Hermione shook her head quite forcibly.

"No, that's not true. I thought I'd be sorted into Ravenclaw actually, but that didn't happen…"

"It would have been a good match as well," he granted. "You were probably one of the smartest Gryffindors. Not that that's saying much…" His eyes glistened mischievously.

Hermione frowned. "Stupid and reckless, you mean?"

"Well, acting before they think definitely…"

Hermione learnt that evening that the Durmstrang students were not sorted into houses but solely divided in years. There were also four tables in this dining hall, Draco told her, one for each year. There was no sorting ceremony but all the students were presented to the rest of the school at the evening of their arrival and given a chance to tell something about themselves, recite a poem, sing a song or something alike. They'd often prepare during the summer vacation to make a good impression.

Hermione rather liked that. She had read most of her schoolbooks before ever arriving at Hogwarts. A little effort had never hurt anyone.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The next morning, Hermione rose a little less desperate than she had been on her arrival. Draco had been pleasant enough, so had the Headmistress. Perhaps it wouldn't be as she feared. She found herself even looking forward to the day, cautiously, of course. It was a good thing Ron wasn't here. He would have had a thing or two to say about her being so easily wooed and taken in by hospitality.

She decided to be on her guard regardless and see if she could pick up any ominous signs from the teaching staff or the students regarding students without a magical background.

* * *

A few hours later, she shut the door to her room with a loud bang. She had been wrong to hope. It was horrible. They had been absolutely horrible!

It had started out nice enough…

The Headmistress led her through the small, dark and gothic castle to the dining hall for breakfast. The hall was smaller than Hogwarts's but still eerily alike. Four large tables and one for the teachers facing the four tables. The food was different, heartier and rustic. The ceiling didn't reflect the sky but had a Medieval mosaic pattern portraying knights and dragons in battle. The teachers were friendly and engaging. If they had any blood-prejudices, they didn't flaunt it at least.

After breakfast, she was showed around the castle and the grounds. Outside of the castle, a cold wind blowing through her clothes, the first cracks in the hospitable treatment began to appear. The trees around the paddock with horses had strange carvings in them. It looked like red and black raindrops perhaps? The black one had a red cross over it though. She had noticed similar drawings on the castle walls, mostly inside the hallways. She decided to ask the Care of Magical Creatures teacher, a tiny thin man, about it. His balding head seemed almost too heavy for his body to carry. Hermione wondered how on earth he controlled the animals, but witnessing his spell work and commanding voice soon answered that question.

"It's blood drops," he said, unfazed. "Red for Wizard, black for Mudblood." Hermione nodded, dumbfounded. He hadn't even used the word Muggle-born to be polite.

"The school doesn't see this as vandalism?" she asked. "I saw it on the walls inside as well."

"When it's getting too much we fix it , but they always return. That's pranksters for you," he said, uninterested. "Let me show you our herd of Bicorns. They're some of the best specimens around."

* * *

Hermione was still seething with rage at the blood drop carvings when she returned to the castle. No prejudices against Muggle-borns, indeed. She wondered if the other teachers didn't care either. In her eyes, it was a call to wipe out Muggle-borns, and she didn't think she was overreacting.

Clearly they did think precisely that. The Arithmancy teacher, an old grey lady with blue streaks in her hair, said it wasn't a big deal. It was just an expression of an opinion. A rather popular opinion even. She didn't see it as hateful, merely expressing a fact. Pure-bloods were the better Wizards: that was all it meant. The Triwizard Tournament might be a way to actually prove that, she thought and said so rather boastfully.

"It isn't a call for….? Well, violence against them?" Hermione pushed. The woman glared at her.

"Of course not!" She spat. "That's your prejudiced opinion. Durmstrang is not an evil school and I deeply resent the suggestion."

Hermione fell silent. The last thing she needed was a fight. "Why do you think it has been crossed out then?" she asked, trying to sound not too angry.

"It simply means they are not allowed to join our school. It doesn't mean we want them out of the way or that won't be hospitable to the students of other schools."

"I see," Hermione didn't believe a word of it but let the matter rest for now.

After a tour through most of the classrooms and dorms, conducted by various teachers, she ended in the dueling hall. It was a beautiful space, especially designed for practicing and witnessing duels. Famous duels were pictured on the walls and she could glimpse Krum in one of them. He appeared to be losing though.

The Dueling teacher was clearly proud of her subject and went on and on about the famous Duelers that Durmstrang had thought over the years. She even mentioned Grindewald without an ounce of shame. When she was finally done, Hermione asked about some of the other subjects and between Divination and Study of Ancient Runes, she got to asked the one question that really mattered.

"What about Muggle Studies?" she asked innocently. "Who teaches that subject?"

"Muggle Studies?" The red-haired Dueling teacher laughed. "Whatever would they need that for?"

"To understand the Muggle world better and Muggle-borns, of course," Hermione was beginning to lose her patience.

"And why would they want to do so?" was the return question. "I honestly can't see the point since we usually don't engage with Muggles and Muggle-borns generally tend to live in the Wizarding World anyhow."

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. "You are serious, aren't you?" Her voice was deflated.

The woman's eyes narrowed. "Why don't you ask our students?" she suggested. "See if they take to the idea. "Natalya?!" she called out to a blond girl with braids. "Come here for a minute. This lady comes from Hogwarts and likes to ask you a few questions."

Natalya shyly approached Hermione. She replied only with yes- and no answers but it soon became clear the teacher might have a point. For the rest of the afternoon, Hermione stopped random students in the hallways to interview them and the results were disheartening to say the least.

That evening after dinner, she withdrew to her guest room. McGonagall would hear about this!

* * *

In her owl to McGonagall, Hermione recommended against organizing another Tournament.

 _They seem to be willfully ignorant. Think Fudge who didn't want to see what was under his nose. I don't know if I should blame the teachers for ignoring all this or the students for believing it. I refuse to be part of some ego-tripping talent show featuring Durmstrang as the best specimens of pure-blood Wizardry._

She was only just getting up some steam when a knock on the door stopped her. Hermione didn't really want to talk to anyone else but reluctantly opened the door.

It was Malfoy. She repressed a sigh and asked him what the purpose of his visit was.

"I've been sent to see if you're settling in," he came in without being invited and wandered around her room. Naturally he saw her owl. "Writing a report, I see?"

"Yes, and it's private." Hermione snapped as she quickly put a concealment spell on the letter.

He grinned. "Not stealing any secrets, are you? Or betraying our location?"

"You know I couldn't, even if I wanted to," she replied. Having to agree to be put under a Memory charm for that had personally stung her, even if it was mandatory and had been for centuries.

"Malfoy?" she began carefully. "Are you quite sure this Tournament is a good idea? I realize it's meant to put Durmstrang in the limelight, but one has to wonder…"

"Wonder what?"

"If it is, well, the right moment for it. I, for one, was rather shocked at the amount of prejudice here…"'

"Well, you would, wouldn't you?" He shot back. "You'd want to liberate house-elves and the likes, so no wonder you feel that way."

"What are you saying?" It seemed as if he implied something.

"McGonagall herself, she might be more…. Practical, more pragmatic about it."

"That's not how I know her," she defended her Headmistress. "She wouldn't stand for it either.."

"We'll see about that," Draco hissed. "Just you wait!"

He stormed out of her room. Hermione took a deep breath. What on earth did Malfoy mean?


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Thanks for reading, follows, favorites or reviews!

* * *

Chapter 5

The Sunday passed slowly. Hermione had managed to antagonize most of the teachers, just like they had hurt her. She was counting the hours to get home.

She strolled through the hallways, encountering whispering students where-ever she went. Hermione heard the occasional reference to Mudbloods.

Another mark on the walls, stopped her in her tracks. This she had heard of before.

* * *

Draco saw her standing in a hallway. She appeared to have stopped and was peering at the wall. Staring even. Draco laughed derisively. Granger could still surprise him with her actions.

"Looking for hidden trapdoors?" he asked, a smirk on his face, leisurely strolling towards her. "There's no monster hiding in the walls here, I can assure you."

She smiled nervously. "Malfoy… No, I was…" she pointed at the mark. "Krum told us about it. Grindelwald's mark apparently," she stated off-handedly. Although the story of the Horcruxes had become common knowledge, that of the Hallows had not.

"He's still quite popular with some of the students," Draco admitted reluctantly. "The mark doesn't fade and we can't remove it."

"A reminder of the past then," she said. Draco nodded as he unconsciously touched his arm. "Am I right in assuming you won't be returning to Durmstrang?"

"Not if I can help it," she said. "I'm sure McGonagall can find someone else who won't stir up as much trouble… if talks do continue. Apparently one's background still counts for something here."

"Indeed," Draco muttered. "It does."

"It wasn't meant as a compliment," she clarified, not that it was needed.

"Our flying teacher, Geoffrey Penn, perhaps," she suggested. "He's a Slytherin, has the right credentials for this place, much like yourself."

"It would mean a lot to us. Hosting such an event." He said. Draco wasn't going to beg but did want to remind her. "Regardless of personal opinions, diplomacy and cooperation are good goals to have. Especially for schools."

Hermione agreed in principle but not in this particular case. Therefore, she opted to stay silent instead. Draco took it the wrong way and stalked off.

* * *

McGonagall was in a tight spot. Hermione had come back with a pretty devastating report of the school and had firmly argued against joining the Championship. The other two Heads of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, however, were putting pressure on her to join. Without Hogwarts the Tournament couldn't happen and that would make her a spoilsport. Minerva didn't necessarily care what the two thought about her, but their arguments sure got to her. She did want students to develop international relationships and she valued cooperation and diplomacy very much. It made sense to give it a try. After all, Dumbledore had. A small voice in her head did nag her. Was she sure this wasn't about personal glory? About perhaps her final great event as a Headmistress?

Poppy had given her a check-up the other day and the results had not been good. She was getting worse, not better. If she didn't agree to it happening next year, perhaps she wouldn't be around to see it happening at all….

Minerva knew that shouldn't be a consideration, but it was. She longed to see Hogwarts shine once more at a Triwizard Tournament. Perhaps one of the Muggle-borns from Hogwarts or Beauxbatons would win… and that would be something worth fighting for.

* * *

Rumbling angrily in her office, Hermione remembered the events of the last few days. It hadn't mattered what she had said or done. McGonagall could not be persuaded. She was counting her rare supply of Snidget feathers when he came in. Him, being her replacement.

Hermione was very displeased with her Headmistress' decision. She had just ignored her entire report and would visit Durmstrang herself, taking Geoffrey Penn with her. It was the day before they'd set sail and he had come asking for some advice. Hermione wanted to respond snarky but realized he was in earnest just in time. It wasn't his fault.

"I'm sure you'll do fine," she said. "You can't do worse than me, that's for sure. I was too preachy and they are far too proud. Perhaps I am too…" she sighed.

"Giving them the benefit of the doubt, you mean?" His brown eyes were understanding.

She nodded. "I was going to," she replied. "But that didn't really work out."

"What about Malfoy?" he wondered. Penn seemed a bit nervous, resisting the urge to wring his hands.

"What about him? You're from the same house. You're bound to have things in common."

"I'm not too sure on that," he said. "He was a Death Eater whereas my family…. Well, we preferred to stay within the bounds of the law."

"Self-preservation," she said, a little bitterly.

"Only natural. Nothing wrong with it…" he replied like a true Slytherin.

Hermione smiled. "I don't think it matters much anymore," she said. "The War is in the past and he'll be polite enough. They want to make a good impression. Convince McGonagall to join."

"It would be a great opportunity to showcase our talent." His eyes lit up. "I've already made a list of possible students we might bring along. I wasn't at Hogwarts yet when the last one was held."

That explained his eagerness, Hermione thought. His longing to be a part of something that exciting.

"The last Tournament has mixed memories for me," she confided in him. "I met a nice boy, from Durmstrang no less, but it was also the year Voldemort rose and a good acquaintance was killed. Not to mention the Tournament being rigged by a zealous Death Eater."

"It's why," he said cautiously, "it would be good to have another Tournament. To create more positive memories this time around."

"I understand, " Hermione said, "but that certainly isn't a given…."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Hermione wondered about getting Harry involved in the whole situation. Perhaps he could talk some sense into McGonagall! She discussed it with Ron whom readily agreed. In the end, however it didn't matter as Harry wasn't up for it.

"I don't understand why?" Hermione spat as she sat on an old blue grandfather chair in one of Grimmauld Place's living rooms, the Blue Chamber. "Why won't you?" Her teacup was trembling.

Harry sighed. "I'm not interested, Hermione. I'm just not." He rose his shoulders. "It's nothing to do with me. I might not even go, I mean, a Triwizard Tournament…" He gazed out of the window, lost in thoughts.

"Brings back memories," Hermione said, "I understand that. It's precisely why I thought you would want to stop…" Her disappointment shone on her face. "Why?"

"It's her good right to want to join. It's their right to host it. I just don't want to be bothered with the whole thing." Harry couldn't be persuaded and the rest of the visit was quite uncomfortable.

Ron and Hermione left his house still reeling in anger. How could Harry not want to fight their case? Take their side?

* * *

Harry watched them disappear as he was looking out of the window.

" You could have been a little more sensitive," Ginny complained. "I'm not sure I understand it myself," she added.

"It's about leaving the past be," he spat. "Not getting dragged into this kind of stuff again and again and again."

As still an important figure he was dragged into it, constantly, and it was becoming tiring. He'd had hoped that after the War things would be resolved rather quickly but they hadn't. Tensions and prejudice still existed even if public opinion was now largely on his side. Hermione kept picking these battles but Harry rather had enough of them. It had been enough. He just wanted to be left out of it and live quietly. Have his own life instead. Enjoy being an Auror and not be bothered with politics too much. Pure-blood prejudice was bound to exist for a long time yet and he didn't feel the need to be a fulltime spokesperson.

Ginny sighed. "You don't seem yourself lately," she mumbled, a little disheartened. "It's what we've fought for all along…"

That's precisely it, Harry thought. I imagined the fight would have been over a long time ago.

* * *

A few days later, McGonagall and Geoffrey Penn arrived at Durmstrang. They were welcomed in a similar manner as Hermione had been and enjoyed a nice supper with the Headmistress and a few of the teachers. The Headmaster of Beauxbatons was due to arrive the next day, as were the head of Magical Games and Sports and the head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Negotiations were truly about to start now and McGonagall knew it would be hard, if not downright impossible, to back out at this stage.

As she was shown to her room by Draco, a few hours later, she addressed the issue of Hermione's failed visit.

"It seemed that Mrs. Weasley wasn't the best choice as a representative," McGonagall said. "I should have followed my own instincts…"

"Whose did you follow?" Draco dared to ask, not sure if she'd answer, or if he should have asked in the first place.

"Dumbledore's," she smirked, as she followed him into a narrow hallway, along damp stony walls. "He's still the optimist, of course. Between him and Snape you can imagine my headaches…"

Draco laughed. "I bet Snape warned against it," he ventured.

"Of course, he did. He never cared much for Hermione." Minerva leaned heavily on her walking stick, making an effort not to let it show.

"The carvings scared her, I think," Draco said, as he adjusted his pace to hers. "She was quick to jump to conclusions."

"Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall sharply replied, "Hermione has every right to be a little sensitive in that regard. She is not like you or I, having had to fight hard for the acknowledgement of her place in the Wizarding World. I'm sure, you of all people, remembers that."

"Only too clearly," he muttered. "How could I forget? Still, I don't want Durmstrang to get a bad reputation over this…" He stopped and gestured at the red wooden door of her guestroom.

"It's in your own hands. Yours and everyone else at Durmstrang," she said. "Surely you see that?"

"Only if we're given a fair chance in the first place," he argued.

"I think you will be," McGonagall replied, as he handed her the tartan bag. "Beauxbatons is very eager, as is Durmstrang , as am I personally. The only thing I want for Hogwarts is the absolute assurance our Muggle-borns will be safe and sound and treated with respect. Beauxbatons may have similar worries on that count."

"But Headmistress," Draco bristled. "Even at Hogwarts Mud… Muggle-borns weren't safe all the time. You can't expect better of this school if it has even more of a pure-blood background…."

"I realize that… Still, those carvings should be undone the moment they are found as a sign of respect. Perhaps it is not possible for some of the students to refrain from making them, it should, however, be possible for teachers to remove them the moment they appear. Respect can be shown in several such ways. "

Draco nodded. "It shouldn't be a deal-breaker, I presume," he said blandly. The list of requirements on her side steadily grew, and he wasn't too sure what his Headmistress thought of _that._

* * *

Geoffrey Penn rather liked Durmstrang. The castle was smaller than Hogwarts but certainly had its charms. He liked the great emphasis they placed on dueling as he had been a dueling champion himself whilst at school. The school's surroundings were great for flying and he looked forward to discovering it from the air. His fear of Draco had proven to be ungrounded as Malfoy had even suggested a little flying trip across the fjord and forest, first thing tomorrow.

He rose bright and early and took his Nimbus 4000 under his arm. This would be a morning to remember!

He met Draco outside and soon they were up in the air. It was cold and a bit rainy but that didn't stop him enjoying the flight. They had both been Seekers for the Slytherin team in their day and raced each other for fun.

"Let's fly over the pine forest and land in the clearing," Draco finally suggested and Geoffrey agreed. In the midst of the forest a large clearing could be found which was a possible location for one of the Tasks of the Tournament. Draco landed neatly in the middle and Geoffrey dismounted shortly after. His long auburn hair untidied by the wind.

"Looks like they've been busy here as well…." Draco mumbled, staring at some of the trees bearing the teardrop markings. "We might as well clear them immediately," he said, hoping Geoffrey wouldn't make too big a deal of it.

"Do you have any idea who might be responsible?" Penn asked.

Draco let out an hollow laugh. "Only about half the school, I presume," he said, "unfortunately. McGonagall was pretty firm about it yesterday."

"She told me that you'd said in your first meeting the school did have some Muggle-born teachers, though," Geoffrey asked politely.

"Yes, that's right. There's two of them," Draco replied, "and they're a couple. A bit sour too, like… Hmpf." He bit his tongue.

"Mrs. Weasley, you mean?"

"Granger, yes… They couldn't really console her, I suppose, though given a bit more time they might have talked her 'round."

"So what subjects do they teach?" Geoffrey wondered.

"Divination and Ancient Runes," Draco answered. "All speculative stuff. They twist their subjects into, well, propaganda for their own ideas…"

"I'm sure we're all somewhat guilty of that," Geoffrey suggested casually. "I've been known to… well, honestly to teach a few dirty flying tricks only to fellow Slytherins." His eyes sparkled.

Draco smiled broadly. Penn turned out to be a much easier guy to convince than Hermione would ever be. "What does your Headmistress say about that?" he asked.

"Didn't she bend the rules for Harry herself?" Geoffrey returned a question. "All's fair in love and Quidditch."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

While Draco and Geoffrey were restoring the trees at the clearing to their natural bark, discussing possible ideas for a task there involving all kinds of dangerous animals, Minerva was stuck in a rather tiresome meeting with the other Heads. The local head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation was a young but stern woman, just as rigid as Barty Crouch Sr., with a similar love of pinstripe clothing— even the heavy frame of her glasses followed this pattern—whereas the head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports was a good looking Adonis: clearing he wore form fitted clothing to show off his abundance of muscles.

Minerva sighed. He would surely divert the students attention. Beauxbatons' Headmaster she had met before, Pierre Piccard, a strange man with long blond curly hair as well as a curly moustache with two light-blue bows at the tips. Blue being the favorite color of his school. He was very polite and charming, a little too charming, Minerva felt, as it grated on her nerves.

She rubbed her temple. You're getting old, she told herself. Old and miserable. She noticed the other Headmistress eyeing him, smiling a toothy smile. McGonagall subtly shook her head: that was the last thing she needed. A love affair between the other two schools! They might gain up on Hogwarts!

At long last, the meeting was over. She now knew it would be a long year between bickering heads of Departments, Agnieszka Bartko and Sven Svagerson, and lingering longing looks between the other Headmistress and Headmaster. McGonagall tried to shake off the ominous feeling. She had wanted this herself. A chance for Hogwarts to shine again.

They'd decided on a few more meetings to iron out any further issues, but so far, they'd determined the Tournament would be held at Durmstrang and every school would bring up to ten possible contestants, all of legal age, preferably five female and five male students. They'd be provided with accommodations as the winters could be quite cold and the Beauxbatons' carriage wasn't suited for it. That had made Minerva sigh in relief as Hogwarts' travelling train wasn't in a good condition either. It was a much smaller version of the Hogwarts Express, with sleeping accommodations, and cooking facilities, unfortunately out of the early 19th century. A small separate wing of the Durmstrang castle sounded much better in comparison.

* * *

A few months later, just after the summer holidays, McGonagall called Hermione into her office once more. Soon she would have to leave for the North, taking Penn with her, yet she still had her eyes set on Hermione's presence too.

She motioned for her to sit down and Hermione complied. She sat upright and avoided Minerva's eyes. This wouldn't be easy.

"As you know we've made our selection of contestants, five boys and five girls, divided between the Houses, all of the legal age. Three Ravenclaws, three Gryffindors, two Slytherins and two Hufflepuffs," she began as Hermione patiently nodded. "A good mix of skills and qualities, worthy of defending Hogwarts' honour. Of course, only one will actually become a Champion."

"Provided nothing goes wrong this time…" Hermione muttered.

Minerva shot her an irritated glance. "We'll see to that," she said. "We don't want any trouble this time around."

Hermione stayed silent, waiting for what was to come.

"I'd still like you to join us," the Headmistress came to the point, "Hogwarts is in good hands here, but I've only got Penn to assist me. Though he's eager, he is also young and I'd like to have someone a little more experienced at my side as well."

"You know my feelings, Headmistress," Hermione responded. "I've told you often enough."

Minerva sternly peered over her glasses but it didn't work. It hadn't for quite a while….

"Hermione…" She nearly begged her now. "It would mean so much to our contestants, especially those with a similar background as yourself, to have you there. To have your support. Not to mention, those two Muggle-born teachers up at Durmstrang…"

Hermione sighed deeply. "It's for a whole year, on or off anyway. It's too much to ask, honestly!"

"Ron could come as often as he likes, even be employed as an Auror overseeing security," Minerva thought out loud. "If that's one of your considerations..."

"No, it's not that," Hermione replied sharply. "It's the climate up there, you know the one I mean. Nothing to do with their eternal winter."

"I'm inclined to make you," Minerva grumbled, as Hermione spat back, swiftly getting up from her chair: "You just try!" Within moments she had left McGonagall's office.

"I told you, you should have been upfront about your health," Dumbledore's voice sounded from behind her. "That might actually persuade her to come."

"I'm not prepared to do so just yet," Minerva responded angrily. "I'm not stooping that low…"

"You are developing quite a stoop lately," Snape unhelpfully remarked.

"I'll turn you around for that," she replied as she made to grab his portrait.

* * *

Draco was looking forward to the Triwizard Tournament. He sat in his rooms writing an owl. Classes had just resumed and the students had been informed of the event. They had everything in control, ten great possible champions lined up and ready while interesting and dangerous tasks lay ahead. He'd enjoyed the planning but was secretly happy he wouldn't have to engage in the tasks himself. Dangerous animals, potions and puzzles would provide challenges for the competitors. The two wings for Beauxbatons and Hogwarts were finished, decorated with the school colours, warm and welcoming.

There was one little problem though. Murmurs about Mudbloods didn't cease, in fact, they had increased as had the markings. They still didn't know who was the instigator and it could well be many different students. Aurors would guard the wings of the visiting students which didn't make for a nice atmosphere but might be necessary all the same.

Although Draco's personal feelings about Muggle-borns hadn't really changed, he didn't like this development. The Tournament was meant to increase friendships between schools. He himself had really enjoyed the previous Tournament, up until the end that was, and had made quite a few Durmstrang friends. If something untoward would happen, Durmstrang's name would be muddied again, just like during Grindelwald's rise. He hoped everyone would behave themselves and had fiercely promoted that attitude in his classroom.

Some of the students had picked up on his hypocrisy in that regard as he complained about in an owl to Penn. Geoffrey had become a friend these past few months, a fellow teacher, Slytherin, and pure-blood. Not that it should matter, but it did, all the same.

 _One of them, a loudmouth, Anatoly, even mentioned my past as a Death Eater, saying I had clearly lost my way over the years and had become a coward; can you imagine that?_ He wrote frustrated. _I was rather an irritating student myself, I'm aware of that, but this! The arrogance, the rudeness! I was ready to disqualify him from the Tournament but my Headmistress wouldn't have it. His father is a prominent man…_

Draco didn't miss the irony reading his last line before he continued his letter.

 _So all I could do was give him a humiliating punishment. He is one to watch out for, I believe._

He fiercely hoped Anatoly wouldn't become their champion. Draco much preferred Leila Arkanova: a half-blood Chaser who could speak Parseltongue.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Thanks for all follows, reviews, or favorites!

* * *

Chapter 8

Minerva was sitting on a bed in the Hospital Wing. She had fainted, fortunately not during her lessons, but in the privacy of her office. Still, it was rather worrying and Poppy's mutterings didn't help. Especially not since the current topic was Hermione.

"I'll do it, Minerva," Poppy said admonishing. "You're just too stubborn, you always were." She fussed over her old friend whom she wouldn't lay eyes on for quite a while. "Make sure you repeatedly get yourself checked," she warned, taking her pulse.

"Stop fussing, Poppy, please!" Minerva pushed her away but Poppy didn't let her.

"Remember you must take one cauldron every week and those pills…"

"You've told me a thousand times before!"

"Yes, and you don't listen. You can't forget to take your medication, like it's something optional."

Minerva frowned. It wasn't stubbornness this time around, she simply forgot sometimes. However, she would not tell Poppy that.

"I'll be a good girl, promise," she replied instead with a sour grin. "Just don't fuss."

"I'll talk to Hermione," Poppy said. "She'll know how to brew the potion and I don't trust those Durmstrang Healers. Isn't that young Malfoy the Potions Master over there?"

"I'm sure he won't try to off his old Transfiguration teacher," Minerva chuckled. "Nor would I let him."

"He'd have to deal with me first," her friend replied darkly.

* * *

Draco often avoided the red-haired Dueling teacher. They'd briefly been a couple and it hadn't ended well. In fact, it had ended in a duel, that he sadly hadn't won.

She also seemed to have a streak of revenge about her and had posted all his personal information on a so-called site-web, a few months ago, just after their break-up. It was some Muggle invention used to make arranged matches or something of the sort. He'd seen his profile when one of the Muggle-born teachers had pointed it out to him, praising him for using it. Of course, he wasn't! The man had given him access to this Muggle machine with a screen and there he was. A non-moving picture of himself had stared at him from across the screen, and many of his details, hobbies, personal qualities and preferences were mentioned. He told Igor, the Divination teacher, to remove it at once.

"Are you sure?" he had asked. "It says here you've got a perfect match? I'd want to know, wouldn't you?"

Draco had scowled and let the man click on something. How on earth could some Muggle be his perfect match?

And there she was…. Hermione Granger's picture right in front of him. She hadn't changed one bit. Well, she'd gained a bit of weight and a few tiny wrinkles. But other than that… How could this be?

"Remove it at once!" he'd barked at Igor. "This devilry is not for me."

Not long after that, she had arrived at Durmstrang and proven that she really hadn't changed at all. Still easily upset, arrogant, complaining, and married. That last bit was a little puzzling. Why would she have a profile for matchmaking if she was married?

* * *

Hermione didn't really want to admit it to herself but these past few months, the rut in her marriage had grown considerably. It was almost as if Ron wasn't interested in her anymore. He disliked her having her own life at Hogwarts but when she was at the apartment, he was usually busy with a case anyway. And she was left alone, bored out of her skull.

She felt they were drifting apart but neither of them knew what to do. He blamed her for not being home and she did exactly the same: blaming him. Hogwarts began to feel more and more like a safe-haven, away from her crumbling marriage.

She wondered what had happened. Where it had gone wrong…. Ron didn't join her at Hogwarts as often as he had before, not even during his long weekends. He was tired he said, or working overtime. So much cases to deal with these days. But Hermione wasn't sure if she should believe him. There would always be cases, wouldn't there? And it wasn't as if Ron was the only Auror in existence. Hermione realized that they couldn't reach each other anymore…

And, in the back of her mind, a nagging question arose. What was he doing when he said he was working late, having all these cases? Was it true? Or did he have…

She shook her head. Hermione didn't want to imagine the possibility. Still, it kept her up at night.

* * *

"Hermione, dear," Poppy said, bothering Hermione as she was just about to take a quiet walk. "I need you to keep an eye on her. Minerva…. She has to be strong, always, you see. I'm worried sick about her going over there to those… prejudiced, horrible…" She grabbed Hermione's arm to stop her in her tracks.

"It's her own choice," Hermione grumbled. "Besides, I don't want to be away from Ron for such a long time."

Poppy looked at her intently. "Hermione," she carefully began, "I haven't seen Ron all that much lately. Is everything...?"

"No, no, it's not!" she cried. "He's not happy and neither am I! Are you happy, now?!"

"Perhaps some time apart," Poppy suggested. "Will make things clearer?"

Hermione nodded slowly. "I don't really know what to do," she whispered. "He's been distant and, well, we haven't got kids." She didn't mention the rut and her foolish profile. She loved Ron, didn't she? They were just going through a bit of a rough patch, that was all.

"You know they say that distance makes the heart grow fonder," Poppy said. "It isn't a cliché for nothing. Often these things are true."

"She needs my help, you said," Hermione asked, changing the subject. "She hasn't been well, I gather?"

Poppy explained in detail and managed to convince Hermione with her story. McGonagall needed all the help she could get, even if she didn't want to admit it.

* * *

And so it happened that Hermione did join her Headmistress at Durmstrang for the Triwizard Tournament. She and Penn went a few days in advance whereas McGonagall would arrive a few days later with the selected students.

Hermione had fought endlessly with Ron over it, who thought it was the worst idea ever, and ultimately he had forbidden her to go. Forbidden her! Like she was his house elf or something! Hermione hadn't been able to deal with it graciously and had finally snuck out on him while he was taking a nap to catch the boat. Not the best way to say goodbye….

Later that night, after she'd arrived and was finally alone in her room, Ron's response appeared. "A howler! Honestly Ron!" she muttered as the letter opened itself.

Draco, who was just passing by her room, could clearly hear Ron's voice through the closed door: "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING! HOW COULD YOU HAVE DONE SUCH A THING? HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN MY WARNINGS! I DIDN'T WANT YOU TO GO THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE. COME HOME AT ONCE! IT'S NOT A REQUEST!"

Draco heard Hermione contact Ron through the fireplace and more yelling and shouting commenced. It seemed as if Auror Ron wanted to keep his wife somewhat under his thumb, Draco gathered. He couldn't imagine Hermione being fond of that!


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Hermione was quickly becoming friends with the two Muggle-born teachers. Igor and Tasha—short for Natasha but as there were quite a few of those at Durmstrang, she hardly ever used it—were a lovely couple. He taught Divination, she the Study of Ancient Runes: Hermione's favorite subject as well as her least favorite. Although she was a Potion's Mistress herself, Hermione still loved Ancient Runes. She had even applied for the position at Hogwarts but someone else had gotten it and as the Potions position had still been open, she'd applied for that instead.

It was hard to listen to their stories sometimes though. Igor and Tasha faced quite some nastiness from a few of the students. Hard-core pure-bloods, Igor called them. They had even campaigned for their removal a few years ago. Thankfully the Headmistress and the Board of Governors had put a stop to that. Hermione listened carefully as they sat in their small living room, in a cottage on the grounds, near a cave.

"I can't imagine having to deal with that all the time," Hermione sighed. "You're real champions in my book. At Hogwarts, mostly the Slyterins had such opinions but the other Houses were quite firm in pushing against such ideas. And after the War things have gotten even better in that respect…"

"I supposed at Durmstrang everyone would be sorted into Slytherin," Tasha smirked. "One of our possible champions even speaks Parseltongue…"

"She's alright though," Igor defended her. "There are far worse choices for champion…"

"Can I ask?" Hermione wondered, "I hardly dare, but…. Are you living here, out here in the fields, because of your background? Instead of up at the castle?" It was one of her concerns for the couple.

Igor smiled. "No, well, not officially anyway…. I think not. In the cave next to our house, some amazing Runes have been preserved and it's a great way for Tash to do some research on them, having them so close by."

Hermione sighed in relief as she took another biscuit. "That's a relief," she said. "I was worried for a moment there…"

* * *

A few hours later, they went outside to witness the arrival of the students. Hogwarts and Beauxbatons arrived shortly after one another and within half an hour, everyone was seated in the dining hall. The decorations were extra festive, and even the ghosts—quite creepy ones, Hermione figured—smiled like crazy. The knights and dragons on the ceiling were showing off, displaying their very best fighting tactics.

"Now that we have welcomed our guests," Freya began her speech, "Let us feast together. The history of the Triwizard Tournament is a rich one, riddled with riddles, broken bones and hearts, but also full of bravery, deceit and despair. Much like history in general." She smiled. "We at Durmstrang are very proud to host this wonderful , though dangerous, competition and praise the brave Witches and Wizards that might become our Champions!"

Freya briefly waited for students to stop clapping. "After dinner, I will invite the students to put their name into the Goblet, whereupon the Champions will be revealed…"

An eerie silence descended on the dining hall. So soon? Hermione looked at Minerva who raised her shoulders: she already knew.

"The other judges and I," the Headmistress continued, "saw no reason why we should wait for the reveal. As the students have already decided on competing, why the need for a long waiting period?"

The hall suddenly felt clammy, Hermione thought, and memories of the past came back. The Goblet releasing four names instead of three. One of an underage student…

It was as if Freya had read her thoughts. "And yes, one of the considerations in this decision was to rule out the possibility of tampering with the Goblet. As we all know, this happened at the last Tournament which led to devastating results…"

Hermione looked at McGonagall who was listening intently. Her eyes then flickered into Draco's direction as she briefly wondered how he remembered the previous Tournament.

"Through no fault of the organizers," Freya quickly added. "The judges mutually agreed to these hastened proceedings and this may be a good opportunity to introduce you to them."

She asked the four other judges to come forward and introduced them. Pierre Piccard, the Headmaster of Beauxbatons, McGonagall as Headmistress of Hogwarts, Agnieszka Bartko, local head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation and finally Sven Svagerson as the head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. That last one had most of the girls gasping and some of the boys too.

The girls at Hermione's table giggled constantly, first it was about the frilly French moustache and later over the Swedish muscles. She smiled sanguinely at the youthful expression. Her own heart felt so heavy in comparison.

"I do not need to remind you of the danger that lies ahead in the coming year. The three agreed upon tasks will ask the utmost of any champion and are not without danger. Participate at your own peril! It is not too late to change your mind!" She looked at the various would-be competitors. "Once you've entered your name, the contract will be binding."

The Headmistresses opened the jeweled casket that housed the Goblet of Fire with her wand and put in on a pedestal, clear for everyone to see. The moment the Goblet touched its stone base, the flames grew higher. Blue and white, just as Hermione remembered.

"I now invite the students of Beauxbatons to enter their names, then the Hogwarts students, and finally our own!" Freya's voice took her back.

After writing their names and school on a parchment, five pretty boys and girls came forward, dressed in silky blue. So young they were and optimistic. One of the girls wore a strange amulet, whereas another one was wearing satin ballet shoes. They were cheered on by most of the students as they each stepped forward to enter their name into the flames of the Goblet of Fire. At the last moment, number eight, a blond boy with almost translucent skin, stepped back.

"I'm zo zorry," he said, teary-eyed, "I can't…"

"Jean-Luc!" His Headmaster whispered, ashamed of this clear display of cowardice, but the boy shook his head before he bolted out of the dining hall.

Freya and Pierre whispered about what to do. Beauxbatons hadn't brought any more students…. As only one champion per school would be chosen, nine instead of ten didn't matter all that much. Hermione felt sad for the young Jean-Luc, but then again, perhaps he'd saved his life this way, even if he would be facing ridicule for days to come.

All ten of the Hogwarts students did enter— representing the best of all the four houses—and so did the Durmstrang ones. They continued their dinner as everyone was constantly gazing at the Goblet waiting for it to make a choice. In the end, it took about an hour and a half. Freya Frova realized it at first and rose from her seat.

"It would appear the Goblet of Fire is ready to make its decision known…" Her voice boomed.

* * *

The tension was overwhelming. Draco's palms were sweaty. Who would become their champion? Would it be Anatoly, who had often undermined his authority these last few weeks, or perhaps even worse, Anatoly's girlfriend Lilith? A dark-haired girl, who frankly, looked like a vampire. There was a darkness about her that scared even Draco and it had nothing to do with her love of black corsets or dark eyeshadow. The both of them were quite popular though, and Draco sometimes wondered if he was simply imagining it.

The Dark Arts were not necessarily considered all that wrong, here at Durmstrang, as they could be quite useful. Draco had always praised their pragmatism on such matters, but these last few months, it also worried him a little. Where Hogwarts was far too Mudblood-loving, perhaps Durmstrang did need to tone it down at bit, at times….

The first champion that was revealed—the flames briefly grew red as the parchment sprung out of the fire—was a Beauxbatons boy, called Alrik Zimmer. His eyes lit up as his name was called and the Beauxbatons cheered for their champion. Pierre clapped loudest, even if Jean-Luc had been his favorite. Alrik was a large build, brown-haired boy, nearly man really; clearly strong physically and great at Wizard's chess.

The next name that the fire released was the Hogwarts champion: neither a Slytherin, nor a Gryffindor student had been chosen. The Goblet of Fire had decided a Ravenclaw was best. When the tiny, shy girl stepped forward, Draco could hardly believe it. He'd thought she wouldn't stand a chance! Not when there were so many talented other students. She looked like the wind could easily blow her away…. Her black hair turned pink when her name was called as did her cheeks. That explained it! Draco smiled: this might become interesting in the tasks that lay ahead.

Finally, at last, the Durmstrang champion would be know! Draco held his breath as his Headmistress grabbed the last piece of parchment. Lillith, Anatoly and the other eight students were anxiously awaiting her announcement. The representative of Durmstrang would carry all the hopes of the entire school. Freya Frova's eyes narrowed and she coughed before she announced: "The champion for Durmstrang is….. Leila Arkanova."

Draco was overjoyed but many of his fellow students and teachers weren't. As the only half-blood in the group of ten Durmstrang students, many had been against her. Couldn't the Goblet have made a better choice, many wondered. And so when she stepped forward to join the other champions several 'booh's' were heard among the cheering.

The judges and the three champions went into a nearby room, where the judged immediately began discussing the outcome.

"It is not fair!" The Headmaster of Beauxbatons complained. "Our student does not have the advantages of the other ones: Parseltongue and a Metamorphmagus. Isn't there anything in the rules forbidding such students to join?!"

"There's a big difference between Parseltongue and being a Metamorphmagus," Freya disagreed. "One's a rare ability for sure, but to change ones appearance at will…." She peered at Minerva. "It seems as if Hogwarts always wants to derail the Tournament!"

"The Goblet chose fair and square," she answered coolly. "I just took the best selection of students I had, just like you two did."

"Hmpf," she snorted in reply, "easy to say that with such an exceptional student as part of one's selection."

Minerva lost her temper. "It is not as if it will help her all that much in the tasks. Not like Parseltongue might!"

The others angrily looked in her direction. "The champions can hear you," Sven whispered. "Keep your voice down!"


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Thanks for the review, favorites and follows!

* * *

Chapter 10

That night no-one slept easily. Some were far too keyed up with joy, some with pure dread. The champions were thrilled with enthusiasm, for now. Most of the students were sportive enough to support their chosen champions, but not all could make this sacrifice.

The Beauxbatons were happy with Alrik as their choice, though some said that had Jean-Luc joined, he would surely have been champion. Even Jean-Luc agreed which was precisely why he had backed out. The Hogwarts champion was widely praised, especially by the other Ravenclaws.

It was the Durmstrang champion that caused the real divides. About a third of Durmstrang's students were half-bloods, like their champion, and they were mostly happy with the Goblet's choice. Another third didn't really care either way, but the final third caused the problems. Why hadn't a pure-blood been chosen? In fact, the only pure-blood in the competition was Hogwarts' champion…. When it should have been theirs! Hadn't Hogwarts brought quite a few Muggle-borns? Yet a pure-blood got to represent them…

* * *

Freya had decided that it might be a good idea if the teachers of Beauxbatons and Hogwarts that had joined the Tournament, would give guest lessons while they were at Durmstrang.

Hermione wasn't too keen, though Geoffrey was. Geoffrey rather liked the fierce Flying Instructor, whom also coached a successful Quidditch team, so no argument there. Hermione, however, thoroughly disliked the idea of teaching a class full of prejudiced students while their smirking teacher sat in the back watching her every move.

McGonagall said she just had to give it a go. Coordinate with Draco beforehand and take it in her stride. Perhaps they could give each other tips and tricks. Hermione found this optimism very unlike McGonagall, who was usually so pragmatic.

She knocked on the door of Draco's office. Better get it over with as soon as possible, she thought, as she took a deep breath. Draco answered the door with a "Ah, it's you…" He looked relieved, which rather puzzled Hermione.

"Expecting someone else?" she asked. His office was quite dark, barely lit. Hermione wondered how he could work like that or if he'd had perhaps taken a nap. Draco noticed her puzzled look. With a quick spell the silver chandelier grew much brighter, revealing a gothic office. It was as if nothing had changed since late Medieval days.

"I worried, perhaps… Elsa," he said, somewhat bitterly.

"Elsa, the Dueling Mistress?" Hermione rather disliked her.

Draco nodded. "Yes, she's started a petition to get the Goblet to choose again. Unhappy with Leila as champion," he explained.

"Are you going to sign it?" Hermione wanted to know. "Only Geoffrey says..." she fell silent.

"What does Geoffrey say?" Draco wondered. "We get along quite all right, as far as I can tell." He raised his eyebrows.

"He says you've got some issues with some of the students, the Muggle-haters, he calls them. That you're actually calling them out for their bigotry." Hermione resisted the urge to snort.

"There's a couple of them," Draco confirmed, "that are worse than the others. Some of them hoped to be champion themselves."

"And McGonagall expects me to teach them! Does she want to see me get hurt?"

"It won't come to that. Besides, I'll be there too."

Hermione shook her head in bewilderment. Having Draco as a protector was the weirdest idea ever. She began to giggle nervously. "Is that supposed to comfort me?" she laughed with a little tremor in her voice.

Draco grinned. "Sounds like something out of Beedle the Bard," he said, "I'd never thought I'd utter those words either."

Hermione smiled. "We better make it work then," she agreed. "I'm not sure what you've covered in your classes, or which textbooks you use…"

"Why don't you look around the Storeroom and see if what springs to mind," Draco suggested. "It's right through here." He led the way.

Hermione couldn't believe her eyes. It was huge and there was so much choice! She thought Hogwarts' storeroom was something to be proud of. The cupboards were filled with the most interesting ingredients, jars and jars of liquids, bones, crushed leaves and much more.

"I'm impressed," she said, "It's wonderful."

Draco smiled. "Lots of choice, that's for sure. There will be a thing or two that you might be unfamiliar with," he drawled. "Hogwarts can be a bit squeamish sometimes…"

Hermione scowled at him. "We call that having a conscience," she spat as she looked around and gasped. "I see you've even got unicorn blood stored in here!"

Draco raised his shoulders. "Don't be so appalled. It's not like _I_ collected it or anything. It's been here for ages…"

"Have you used it?" she asked sternly. "Have you forgotten that night in the Forbidden Forest?"

"Of course not! I'd never use it, but don't see any point in getting rid of it either!"

"Well, I think you should!" Hermione pursed her lips. This wasn't going well so far.

"I never agreed with being consciously unaware of the more…. amoral branches of magic," Draco tried to explain. "What's the point in pretending it doesn't exist?"

Hermione snorted. "You've done far more than that! Durmstrang is known for practicing the Dark Arts and teaching it!"

"That doesn't mean I'm going to use any of that stuff!"

"Why have it then?" she pushed. "Why not get rid of it?!"

"It's rare. It doesn't even belong to me, but to the school," he said, putting her in her place. "It's not for me to decide."

"Who's being consciously unaware now?" Hermione argued, when Draco made a stop sign with his hands.

"Calm down," he said coolly. "We're meant to make a lesson plan. Let's focus on that."

Hermione scowled but finally relented: "You're right. We're never going to agree anyway."

"No," he firmly stated, "but we're both supposed to be professionals."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

They sat in Draco's office, at a large wooden table. It was furbished in dark green colours with some silvery touches. Tasteful, rich, dark. Precisely like its occupant. Draco had given her a parchment and a quill.

"Just write down what comes to mind for fourth-years. That would be sixth or rather seventh-years at Hogwarts," he added.

"Right," Hermione nodded. "Something difficult."

Draco looked at her as she was scribbling down various ideas. He himself leaved through the textbook her was currently using for that particular class. He stopped at one of its pages.

"We shouldn't go for the Babbling Beverage, that's for sure," Draco said chuckling. "I once thought it might be fun to try out, big mistake!"

Hermione giggled, despite herself. "I can imagine." It took hours to wear off and it didn't make for fun conversation.

"What's it like, having Snape's office?" Draco suddenly wondered. "Doesn't it feel strange somehow?"

"A little, occasionally. Apparently it was a Slytherin position for years on end," she remarked. "Snape, Slughorn."

"Quite understandably so, what with all the possibilities of creating poisons…"

"Or medicine," she retorted. "And there's room for inventiveness, creating one's own recipes."

"I was more interested in the Ancient Runes position at first," she continued, "but since Hogwarts managed to get the world's leading expert interested in it, I didn't stand a chance."

"Creating one's owns brews is what drew me to it as well," Draco admitted. "Discovering the powerful effects of moonlight or raindrops, waiting patiently for results…"

"I often assumed it was your favorite subject because Snape cut you some slack," Hermione said.

Draco smirked. "Well, I can't say it didn't help, but it genuinely sparked my interest, much more than say Magical Creatures."

Hermione smiled. "Hagrid himself was the only thing I actually liked about the class," she said, "but those horrible beasts not so much. Divination, however, that really was my most hated subject…"

"Far too woolly for you."

"Precisely," she shook her head. "Staring at tealeaves for hours on end…"

"I know what you mean," he agreed. "Yet some people," he whispered conspiratorially, "can be genuine Seers and it is quite uncanny. Our Headmistress for one…. She already predicted the Tournament would be held here, no matter what barriers or resistance would come from the other two schools. And when it happens— I've witnessed it once or twice— her voice alters, like she is not entirely human."

"I didn't know your Headmistress was a Seer," Hermione said surprised. "That's very interesting."

"She keeps it to herself, mostly," he explained. "Though she's shared it with a few friends."

"You are in her inner circle," Hermione stated as she quoted his Headmistress, "soon to be my right hand man, she said you were."

Draco's grey eyes lit up. "The Deputy Headmaster is getting restless. He wants to go abroad more, instead of being stuck at the school all year….. so perhaps she was referring to that."

"But… But," Hermione stuttered, "wouldn't she choose someone more senior? Aren't you considered, well, an outsider, perhaps?" Hermione briefly wondered if there was more between Draco and Freya and she blushed slightly at the thought.

His eyes narrowed. "Talent counts for more," he sneered, "I'd have thought, you for one, would appreciate that about her."

"I do," Hermione replied. "It just seems quite soon in your career?"

"Jealous much?" Draco smirked. "I've always known exactly how to hone people."

"Probably inherited that particular skill," Hermione said darkly. It wasn't a compliment.

* * *

A few days later, Draco found Hermione sitting in a corner in the teachers' common room. She was all by herself. He didn't realize she was crying until it was too late and she had already spotted him. Immediately she wiped her eyes with a white lace handkerchief.

"Didn't see you there," he muttered as she said: "Don't mind me…"

"Anything I can do? A nice cup of tea, perhaps?" he said, awkwardly. They still hadn't agreed on a lesson plan as they kept sliding into petty arguments whenever they tried to discuss it.

Hermione swallowed. "Thanks, you are too kind but that won't be necessary. I'm all right again."

He nodded. "Well, in that case, I do need to talk to you about what happened this morning…" His brow darkened as he sat down in one of the flowery, quite ugly, chairs. Draco had hated the common room decorations since the start. Pinkish wallpaper, flowery fabric: it was as if they'd hired Dolores Umbridge as the interior designer. He wasn't the only teacher who'd complained about it either.

Apparently it had been created for a Valentine's celebration and was never restored to its old appearance. All sorts of gossip was shared about Freya's refusal to alter it back to its original state. Some said she'd received her first kiss in that room, others had nastier explanations. The real reason, a rather sinister one, was only known to the Headmistress herself.

"Granger….." he hesitated, "Weasley, I mean. Perhaps you shouldn't…" He coughed.

"Shouldn't what?" Hermione replied worried. For a second, she pondered on the thought of being a Granger again which wasn't an entirely unlikely possibility. She felt suddenly hot, despite there not being a fire in the fireplace, as a feeling of dread overcame her.

"This morning I've taught the fourth-years," he said, "and, well, I told them about the guest lessons and I encountered some resistance at the mention of your name."

"No surprises there," Hermione said. "We've expected that, surely?"

"Perhaps," he replied, "yet the intensity rather startled me. It made me wonder about taking precautions. I could remove the most difficult students from the lesson, if you wish?"

"Giving in to their demands?" Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Letting them get away with it?"

"It would keep you safe," he argued, not responding to the not-so veiled insult. "They might want to take out their anger on you, as the perfect…"

"Scapegoat." Hermione sighed. "Are you saying we're going to need Aurors in class now as well?"

"I hope it doesn't come to that, but after this morning…" With a hoarse voice, he recounted the tale.

Draco had told his students enthusiastically about the guest lessons. He hadn't really warmed up to the idea yet, but that wasn't for his students to know. Some of them had cheered, saying it might be fun to get a different teacher for a change. But most of them had scowled, or worse, far worse.

Anatoly had stood up, challenging him in his own classroom again. "I won't be taught by Muggle-borns, as you well know," he'd stated. His father had granted him permission not to take those courses. He wasn't the only student who boycotted Igor and Sasha's lessons either.

"And she's one of the worst of their kind!" He had spat on the floor, before stalking out, leaving Draco dumbfounded. But that wasn't the end of it. Lilith too had risen and commanded some of the others to leave the room. Her eyes had spat fire but an eerie coldness radiated of her also.

"You're becoming a traitor to your blood," she'd said, quite coolly. "But then again, you were a lousy Death Eater already."

Draco had taken out his wand, furiously, but she had just stared at him and laughed. "Challenging me to a duel, are you? I wouldn't be too sure you'd win!"

And with that she'd left his classroom, taking another four students with her.

"They are not even hiding it," he said, not quite meeting Hermione's eyes. "If they don't mind threatening me, they certainly won't hesitate in attacking you," he said. "The biggest problem is that they have protection: powerful parents, teachers who agree with them. We'll have to tread lightly."

Hermione nodded stiffly. "On top of everything else," she sighed. "And to think I was rather looking to seeing everyone compete."

"I think we should allow them not to attend, " Draco said. "Perhaps it is cowardly and feels like appeasing them, but safety does come first. You are our guests and you should be treated as such."

"Maybe you're right," Hermione said deflated. "It might be for the best."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Her emotions got the better of her when Draco had left again. First Ron, then Minerva, now this! It had been a pretty awful day, already!

It had started with Ron arguing with her. Telling her to come back, be at his side. He was having a hard time with a particular case and she wasn't even there to comfort him! Hermione had lost her cool and reminded him that he was hardly a supportive husband himself. Not in her being a teacher, certainly not in her being at Durmstrang.

"I've really had enough of your constant walking away from me," he'd replied. "Hogwarts, Durmstrang, what does it matter? You're not here! I am clearly not enough for you," he'd complained.

"I can't believe you resent me having a job! A career!" Hermione had shrieked back. "Don't you want me to be happy too? I'm not your mum! I can't be happy with baking and looking after a garden and…"

It had been the wrong thing to say. Mrs. Weasley couldn't do wrong in her son's eyes, and as much as Hermione admired Molly, she did often wonder if she didn't want more out of her life. Of course, she had had plenty of children.

"My mother always worked, you know," she'd explained, a little softer. "It's how I was raised and it's what I want."

"And I don't matter, do I?" Ron had reacted. "My mum isn't good enough for you and neither am I!"

"Don't be silly, Ron. You mean the world to me. I love you. I love Molly too. You know that perfectly well!"

But Ron couldn't be persuaded. At the end of their row, he had made a final remark. A pretty nasty one. "I'm giving you a week," he'd said. "A week to come back home. Otherwise…"

"Otherwise what?"

"Otherwise I'm coming to get you!"

* * *

She'd met Minerva straight after that, who didn't seem all that interested, and when Hermione said as much, she suddenly seemed old and fragile. She leant back in her chair and briefly stared out of the window before she replied.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," she sighed. "There is so much to worry about. Draco informed me of what had happened in his classroom this morning and now you're here too."

The guestroom Minerva had gotten served her needs well, yet all the tartan patterns in the room—bedding, with matching pillows—made Hermione wonder if Minerva didn't long for Hogwarts too. She did.

"Do you think we're still safe here?" Hermione asked. "I want an honest answer, not the protective Headmistress' one."

Minerva sighed once more. "I hope so," she said. "I'm becoming more sceptic, not less, over these last few days though. I hope Freya will be able to control her students. Some of them seem rather alarming."

"They do," Hermione responded. "And if even Malfoy thinks so, we might truly get into trouble. I can't believe Igor and Sasha still feel themselves at home here."

"They're probably used to it. You have become used to living without as much prejudice as before but they're still living in those circumstances."

"You're right," Hermione said. "I hope Ron finds his cool though," she continued, "Because the last thing I need is him thrown into the mix. It was hard enough fighting him to get here; I'm not really up for fighting to stay."

"Perhaps he could stay as well," Minerva said darkly. "We might need more Aurors before all this is over."

Hermione shivered. She knew Minerva didn't possess the Sight but her ominous words still sounded like a prophecy.

* * *

It was a week later and Hermione was anxiously awaiting the ship. Ron would be on it. She had taught her class, alongside Draco, and it had gone remarkable well. Without the pureblood supremacists disturbing things, the students had been more forthcoming and willing to listen to her. It had started out as an advanced potion-class but Hermione had quickly found herself explaining Muggle inventions to the students. Even Draco had been more interested than he had let on. It had been quite a good day. Without Muggle Studies, and with most of the students being purebloods, they were as ignorant as Ron had been about the Muggle world. Telephones, televisions, cars: everything sounded strange and intriguing to them. Hermione had bragged about rocket science and the various space programs. She was proud to be Muggle-born.

She'd use her experiences to convince Ron to stay instead of taking her home. McGonagall would speak to him as well and explain the situation. If Ron could participate as an Auror here, it might help their marriage too. Hermione longed for her relationship to be good again. Effortless, like it had been in the beginning, just after the War.

In the distance she could see the ship coming. It wouldn't be long now. She tightened her scarf. It was so cold here.

"Care for some hot chocolate?" Draco appeared out of nowhere beside her, carrying two cups. "I was just about to bring one to Freya but she had to leave rather urgently. Apparently they want to make a few changes to the first task." He handed her the cup.

"Either that or she wants to see the French Headmaster in private," he winked. "They have a bit of history, or so I'm told."

Hermione smiled. "You seem to know everything that's going on around here."

He grinned but added more grimly. "Not everything, alas."

"We'll find a way," Hermione said, feeling hopeful for the first time in a long time. "The class went far better than expected, so that's encouraging."

He nodded pensively. "Perhaps you're right. And, otherwise, I hear there's another Auror coming to join the team." He indicated the ship she was waiting for.

"It's not fixed yet," Hermione replied. "He wants to take me home but McGonagall thinks we can make a good case for him to stay on here. A little extra manpower with everything that's going on."

"Not to pry," Draco began, his eyes glistening cheekily, "but are you happy with it?"

"Sounds like prying to me," Hermione answered. "It depends a little on his mood, I suppose," she continued. "I do miss him but not the constant rows…"

"He might lighten up being here," Malfoy stated, "then again, it is the Weasel we're talking about."

Hermione shot him an angry glance. "It's not just Durmstrang's Dark Arts reputation. Also, you know, Krum."

Draco laughed loudly. "He still jealous of Krum? Are you serious?"

Hermione shrugged. "Ron's always been a bit touchy about that."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I'd say," he mumbled. "Viktor Krum. He's portrayed quite a bit around here. One of Durmstrang's finest!"

"Exactly," Hermione responded. "He's everywhere you look."

"Not quite as bad as all that!"

"Have you heard about this…." Draco suddenly remembered. "This site-web for matching couples?"

"I'm sorry?" Hermione asked, blushing slightly. "What are you on about?"

"Nothing, forget about it." Draco got cold feet. Perhaps not the best moment for a fishing trip.


End file.
